Experimentation
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: Vincent wasn't the only test subject Hojo got his hands on when Lucrecia fled Nibelheim. Chaos suffered alongside him. WARNING: This is my second foray into darker themes. This contains TORTURE and there is GORE. IF YOU ARE UPSET EASILY OR ARE DISTURBED BY SUCH THINGS DO NOT READ THIS STORY.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from FFVII, not the settings, not the characters, not the names. Nothing. I own absolutely nothing. It is all the property of the wonderful Square Enix.**_

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His time in the labs was a far cry from a pleasant experience for Chaos. Few knew about it, and Hojo was careful to destroy his notes afterwards, but the demonic WEAPON himself was a test subject for the madman whenever he gained control over the body he shared with Vincent for long stints of time.

It was quite the common thing for his screams to echo from the labs, up into the mansion, and out into Nibelheim; and they only got progressively louder the longer Hojo messed with his anatomy. Strong bones were twisted out of their sockets, forced to bend in ways they weren't supposed to, chipped, broken, snapped, shattered into tiny little fragments... Some were even removed while the maggot jotted down his analysis and the lab technicians watched as bone slowly regrew and reformed back into shape.

Blood was siphoned from him, again curious eyes watching as they drained him for an hour solid and still the flow of crimson continued, well beyond the five litres of the average human, no doubt stunned that his body could replenish his blood so quickly. He watched through hazy eyes as they ran tests on his blood - not the normal kind of tests. They checked its properties, from boiling to freezing point, to how it reacted when introduced to Jenova cells or mako. That hadn't been a pretty sight; and through it they discovered natural power ran thick through his lifeblood. After which they siphoned even more from him in numerous attempts to access and wield said power. It was funny - perhaps morbidly so considering he was strapped to a metal table and being poisoned from the inside out with that damned toxic mix of mako and Lifestream that they kept pumping into his body, straight to the muscular tissues to keep him immobile - to watch Hojo's expression grow progressively more sour with each failed attempt. Of course that meant more pain for Chaos in the long run, but it was still amusing to see.

Skin of the soft grey tone was rent asunder, crimson blossoming, running in rivulets and pouring in sheeting waves across cold steel beneath his back. Overflowing and drip drip dripping down to old cracked stone, drying and sticking and itching, flaking off every time his wings jerked in response to some form of pain or agony running rampant through his nerves. Layers split open, blood ignored, strong fibres and tissues cut open with scalpels, tendons severed and ligaments mangled until his vocal cords were too abused and exhausted to produce anymore sounds. Fibres would regrow only to be abused again and again and again, needles piercing and substances slick and burning, mental screams going unheard and echoing within his skull, more blood on his face from where lethal fangs had punctured through lips, the delicate flesh of his cheeks, his tongue.

Kidneys were ruptured, liver pierced, intestines pulled out and tossed carelessly across the table, glinting slick and disgusting under the bright light burning his retinas. Every organ beneath the protective cage of his ribs was pulled out and played with, frozen one time and set aflame the next until his body slowly but surely fashioned his healing to become immune to flames and resistant - for the most part - to ice.

His chest caved in beneath the punishing blows of some... makeshift weapon or another. A hammer maybe. Or a mallet, he couldn't quite recall. Ribs were yanked aside, cold metal snapped in place to try and halt skin and muscle reforming while they burst open his lungs and pierced into his heart, pulling both out from the bloody warmth of his chest cavity but being careful to keep their connections intact, watching in sick delight as the twin organs tightened and relaxed ever faster in their hands as pained breaths came faster, wide eyes fixed on the gruesome sight of _his lungs breathing outside his body._ Eventually his mind gave up on staying conscious and oblivion claimed him in what should have been respite for his mutilated form.

But respite was something Chaos had never received in the labs. Even in the unconscious realm pain followed him, sent white-hot, mind-numbing agony through his battered form until he was a crumpled shell of his former self, silent but somewhat aware, unable to move even though he wanted to thrash and scream and escape the torture. When they butchered his wings, however, all sense of awareness was lost and he had fainted on that table in the truest sense of the word. Conscious thought receded, and with it any shadow of his former sanity fled.


End file.
